


New Year's Eve, 1984

by tracy7307



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Background Joyce/Hopper - Freeform, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blowjobs, Child Abuse, Descriptions of Billy's Mom, Fluff, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Redemption, Romance, Soft Billy Hargrove, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 16:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17308250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: Billy tapped on his Calc book with his pencil. “What’s in it for me?”Max shrugged one shoulder. “Steve Harrington will be there.”So she was sitting on that piece of information the entire time. Took her that long to play her ace. Billy fuckinglit upinside. Felt like the Times Square ball was already dropping in his chest. “Maxine, looks like we’ll spend our New Year’s Eve in New Buffalo.”





	New Year's Eve, 1984

On Christmas Day, Billy sat hunched over his math book on his bed. When it came down to either solving calculus problems or spending one more minute in the presence of his father, the choice was pretty fucking clear. He spent the requisite amount of time under Neil’s eye in the living room, then holed himself up in his room and lost himself in rules and formulas. 

Max cleared her throat in his doorway. 

He slammed his Calc book closed. “Why are you hovering, Maxine?” 

She crossed her arms and sighed at the ceiling. “I have a favor to ask.”

“The arcade isn’t open today, shit-for-brains,” Billy said, irritation edging his words. 

“I don’t need a ride. It’s just -- my friends and their families are all pitching in and renting this giant house in New Buffalo for New Year’s Eve and-”

“ _New Buffalo_?”

Max rolled her eyes. “It’s on the west coast of Michigan. They said it takes like three hours to get there. Everyone’s driving up there in the morning on New Year’s Eve and staying the night. There will be, like, seventeen people there. And they invited me.”

She uncrossed her arms and leaned against the wall.

Billy gestured for her to continue.

She said quietly, “The _families_ are all going. And.” She stepped closer to him. “And I don’t want Neil to be there.”

“The fuck does that have to do with me?”

Her voice got all soft on him in a way that was new in these last couple weeks. In a way that took some getting used to. “Mrs. Byers suggested that maybe you could go with me instead of Mom and Neil, as, like, a chaperone. I mean. If you’re willing to do that. Said she’d call mom and ask if that would be okay, and that she was sure she could talk Mom into it.” 

He remembered Mrs. Byers last week leaning down to peer at him when he dropped off Max, placing her hand on his open car window. _I can call Hopper if you want me to,_ she had said in a hushed voice. Her gaze was fixed on the yellowing bruise next to his eye. _Nah, it was just an accident, ma’am. But thank you. That’s very kind,_ he’d said with lingering eye contact and a wink, but his flirtation was lost on her. She reached in and squeezed his shoulder, then returned inside. 

He tapped on his Calc book with his pencil. “What’s in it for me?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Steve Harrington will be there.”

So she was sitting on that piece of information the entire time. Took her that long to play her ace. Billy fucking _lit up_ inside. Felt like the Times Square ball was already dropping in his chest. “Maxine, looks like we’ll spend our New Year’s Eve in New Buffalo.”

_~*~_

Neil was in Billy’s face two hours later. His finger hovered under Billy’s nose as he had Billy crowded back against the kitchen wall. His threats were quiet and firm.

 _Whatever kind of faggot shit are you planning on doing up there, you better get that out of your head right now if any hair on Max’s head is harmed if she talks to that little boy one more time if you are anything less than perfect for those parents you will never see the light of day outside of school hours do you understand_. 

Billy’s mind wandered to another place as Neil continued.

He thought about finding Steve under the stairs the last day of school before break. The school was nearly empty. Billy was fucking _bored_ so he asked to use the restroom during Art and just -- never returned. Steve was sitting there, staring off into the grey distance outside the glass door. Billy offered a cigarette. They smoked together in silence, minutes ticking by, until Steve blurted out, “Wanna come over my place tomorrow? Play some ball? I have a hoop.” He took another drag on his cigarette. “My parents are on a company cruise in the Caribbean. Gone for two weeks.” 

After that, Billy went over Steve’s house for five days in a row. On the first day he stayed only for an hour and a half, just to play ball. The next day, it turned into lingering and pizza and a beer. Monday brought movies and popcorn --- three films in a row. On Tuesday the little nerdlings showed up for a D&D campaign and looked at Billy as if he were the Necronomicon come to life. That night Billy had a quiet word with Sinclair in Mr. Harrington’s office and a long, loud argument with the Henderson kid about whether the carbonated beverage they were drinking should be called _pop_ (Henderson) or _soda_ (Billy) while Sinclair sat between them, exasperated. _It’s called *dialect*. Why is this even an argument?_

Neither of them won the argument, but Billy sure felt like he’d won when Steve stumblingly asked him if he wanted to spend the night. 

All of these things ran through his mind as Neil finished talking. Neil emphasised whatever he’d just said with a hard slap, sending Billy’s face flying to the right. His cheek stung and his eyes threatened to well up. Billy wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of tears. Not this time. He ground out “Yes. Sir.” in the most respectful manner he could muster. Neil stalked down the hall. Billy breathed in and out deeply, closed his eyes. Thought about Steve at eight in the morning yesterday when he made them coffee, hair sticking up everywhere with pillow creases on his cheek. Billy’s breathing calmed, and he went to his room and closed the door behind him.

_~*~_

The unseasonably warm December meant more basketball at Steve’s. Billy waited three days after Christmas before venturing forth from his house, not wanting to make some sort of misstep in Neil’s eyes that would fuck up his chances of spending 24 hours with Steve.

They played a long game that day -- it was already up to 54 degrees outside, and the mild air felt too fucking good on Billy’s skin. A pair of discarded sweatshirts lay at the edge of the driveway. They started out just shooting and relaying rebounds before falling into one on one. 

Steve’s hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat as he jostled back against Billy, dribbling, trying to break free from Billy’s defense. Steve stuck an elbow back against Billy’s side and used the contact to propel himself around Billy. “Watch those chicken wings, pretty boy. You’re gonna end up with an offensive foul if you do that shit in a game.” 

Steve took the shot and missed. “That’s where we’re at now? From plant your feet to chicken wings?” 

“Amigo,” Billy said as he gathered up the rebound. “I’m just trying to help you up your game.” He stepped closer and pulled on a flirtatious tone. “And if you want to hook me in closer, you don’t have to chicken wing me, baby.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and dropped his head a bit. “Right,” he said and his cheeks flushed high pink and _fuck_ Billy had just made him blush. “No more elbows. Got it.” 

Billy lifted the hem of his tee to wipe his face and found it was stuck to his body with sweat. Gross. “Hey, any chance I could use your shower? I’m fucking disgusting right now.” 

“Yeah, c’mon. I’ll show you were the guest bathroom is.” 

Billy had become well acquainted with being checked out. He knew what it was like to feel hungry gazes glide over his body, his face, his ass. And when Steve handed him a towel when he was half undressed, he didn’t miss the way Steve’s eyes flicked down. 

After they both showered, they sprawled out on the couch in front of a TV that neither of them moved to turn on. Billy felt boneless after all of their exertion. Felt relaxed, like he’d just gone through a long bout of fucking. He felt _sated_. 

“So those perfume bottles in the guest bathroom. Are those your mom’s?” Billy asked as he stretched across the aggressively large couch. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. He shifted and leaned back against the armrest, sliding his feet toward Billy. “My dad hates the smell of her perfume lingering in their bathroom. Says it makes him sick. So she always puts it on in the guest bathroom.”

“What a fuckin dick.”

“Grade A asshole.” Steve flexed his toes and Billy thought _cute_ but tried to shut that shit down immediately. “Why do you ask?”

“The bottle of Chanel.” Billy felt his heart tripping up a little bit. The words came spilling out before he could stop them. “It reminded me of my mom.” 

“Yeah?” Steve asked. Stopped right there, like he was leaving the gate open for Billy to walk through. Or not. 

Billy would later chalk up the loose lips to all the endorphins. “She used to sit at this little table when she was getting ready. Put on a record -- Elvis or Motown or something while she put on her make-up. Sometimes she asked me to help with the little clasp on her necklace. And she’d spray that perfume.”

“Hm,” Steve said. “What’s her name?” 

“Was. Her name was Joan. But her friends called her Joanie.” 

Steve smiled. “Like on Happy Days.”

“Yeah, like her,” Billy said. He remembered the neighbors calling _Joanie!_ as they got out of the car and she’d beam and wave at them all full of sunshine. “But she was blonde. And really beautiful. Was real sweet to everyone, y’know? Never had a bad word to say about anyone.” 

“Sounds like you loved her a lot,” Steve said quietly.

“If you knew her, Harrington, you’d have loved her too.”

It was the first time he’d talked about her since she’d had a heart attack while walking on the beach four years ago. She was love, and she was light. He wasn’t totally sure why he’d trusted Steve with this --- couldn’t bring himself to think about it too deeply. 

He still had her long, gold necklace hidden inside of an empty cassette case on his bookshelf because no fucking way did he want Neil to know he still had it. When Neil was asleep that night, he pulled it down. Touched it and remembered her smell, her smile. Remembered her sitting on his bed in the darkness, silhouetted against hallway light. Brushed his hair off of his forehead and said, _Goodnight Billy, my sweetheart._

_~*~_

Billy noted that 9:37am, December 31st, 1984 was the first time that Max smiled at him since they’d moved to Indiana. He ruffled her hair on the way to Steve’s and she’d _smiled_ and called him an asshole.

Steve appeared on the porch with a tumbler or coffee for Billy, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and a paper bag in hand. 

“Got munchies?” Billy asked as he opened the trunk. 

“Check.” Steve handed over the paper bag containing bottles of Coke, a bag of Doritos, and several bags of Reese’s Pieces. He tossed his duffel bag in the trunk.

“Not bad, Harrington. Directions?” 

“Right here,” Steve said as he pulled a piece paper from his pocket. “Mrs. Henderson made me a copy.” 

“You as shit at navigating as you are at World History?” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault that Stewart’s writing looks like hieroglyphics.” 

“Hieroglyphics. Guess you tuned in that day,” Billy said as he pulled the passenger seat forward to let Max in the back. She got out her headphones, pressed the play button, and was silent for almost the entire trip. 

Somewhere along I-94, Steve bickered with Billy over the mixed tape he was trying to insert. “Hargrove we’ve been listening to your music for _hours_. Can we just change it up for a bit?” 

“Driver’s choice, pretty boy.” 

“One song. Just one.”

“Fuck, _fine_. One song, but I swear to god if I don’t like it, I’m ejecting that tape right out the window.” 

Steve smiled and stuck his tongue out a little bit. That was Billy’s move, but Steve looked so goddamn _cute_ doing it that Billy let it slide. Steve popped in the cassette. A calypso beat poured from the stereo followed by the bland, boring notes of Lionel Richie's voice. 

“Are you fuckin _serious_ right now Harrington? You’re playing _Lionel Richie_ in my car?” Billy’s voice grew hysterical. 

“Guys-” Max said from the back seat, now awake after she’d been dozing.

_All night long (all night)_

“I know. Awesome, right?” Steve said with a grin. He started bobbing his head and his hair was flopping. He was so _irritating_ liking this shit and so _adorable_ , too, jesus. 

_All night long (all night)_

“Guys-” Max repeated.

Billy pressed the eject button and tried snatching the cassette, but Steve was too quick, his hand closing around Billy’s. “Let _go_ , Hargrove,” he said. 

“GUYS!” Max shouted. 

Billy let go and Steve snatched back his cassette with a victorious grin. “What?” Billy snapped. 

“That last sign said Coloma. I remember that Coloma was past New Buffalo when I looked at the map.”

Steve yanked the map up. “Oh yeah. Shit, she’s right. We passed it.” 

Billy found the next turnaround on the highway and pulled a U turn with snow flying up behind them. “Some type of navigator you are, Harrington. You get us lost, you play Lionel Fucking Richie in my car-” 

“Well, if you wouldn’t have distracted me with your-”

“With my what, exactly?” 

“With your,” Steve waved his hand at all of Billy. “With you.” 

“Real good with words there, sweetheart,” Billy said with a wink. Steve blushed.

“Ugh,” Max said. Billy heard her jam a button on her Walkman and faint music came from her earphones.

“Eyes on the map, compadre. Let’s get there before New Year’s.” 

Steve’s gaze lingered for one more moment with a dumb, adorable smile before he started plotting their course back to the rental house.

_~*~_

Billy pulled in behind a row of five cars. Everyone was already at the cabin. It had vaulted ceilings with long beams and was trimmed with wood throughout. As soon as they walked in the door, Max flitted over to the rest of the kids, who were sitting around the table in the living room yelling over some board game.

Hopper greeted them and led them through the living room and kitchen past several bedrooms. “The kids all brought sleeping bags and pillows and are planning on sleeping out there,” he waved back at the large living room. “The first three bedrooms all have two queen beds. The Wheelers are in the first room, the Sinclairs in the second, and Joyce, Claudia, Jonathan, and I will share the third.” 

He paused in front of the final door which opened on a small room. 

A small room with only one full-sized bed. 

Hopper took a deep breath. “Sorry guys, but this is the last one. If you brought a sleeping bag, maybe one of you could take the floor. So, y’know. Good luck with that.” He walked back toward the mass of yelling kids and said over his shoulder, “And try not to punch each other because I _did_ bring handcuffs.” 

Billy looked at Steve. They held each other’s gaze for three seconds before they bolted for the bed, each trying to shove the other off. 

“I _drove_ , Harrington. I get the bed.” 

“Yeah,” Steve said as he elbowed Billy’s side. “Well I paid for gas. Bought the munchies. I funded our trip.” 

“You got us _lost_ , shitbird. Now enjoy the floor.” Billy shoved Steve’s side. 

Steve grabbed Billy’s bicep and managed to not slide to the floor. “Wait a second Hargrove. Just wait. Look,” he looked down at how they were lying. “We both fit.” 

Billy narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need your bony knees in my back.” 

“Consider yourself lucky. I’m _excellent_ at spooning.”

Billy went still. Tried to take the play fighting out of his voice. Pulled out the lascivious tones and slid his hand a few inches up Steve’s arm. “Now you’re talking, baby. Do you like to be the big spoon or little? Because I’m versatile.” 

“Fuck off,” Steve said with a laugh. “Come on. Let’s go be social.” 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, Billy could hardly _wait_ for bed, midnight be damned.

_~*~_

The kids had started up a D&D campaign in the living room and clamored for Steve to join them, so Billy wandered to where his stomach led him: the kitchen. He found Mrs. Byers chopping up vegetables and Mrs. Sinclair cooking beef chunks in a cast iron pot.

“Hi honey,” Mrs. Byers said with a watery smile, and the thin layer of white wine in the bottom of her glass told him everything. “You hungry? There are snacks on the side table in the living room.”

“Always,” Billy said. He grabbed a sliced carrot from her cutting board and popped it in his mouth. 

Mrs. Byers slapped his hand. Billy snatched it back with a fake “Ouch!” and pretended to cradle it to his chest in pain. She smiled and shook her head. 

“Uh well. I was thinking -- can I help you in here?” he asked both women. The question surprised even himself. 

Mrs. Sinclair was clearly impressed. “Look at you, offering to help. I like _you_ already.” She pointed with her spatula at a pile of peeled potatoes. “Why don’t you dice those up for us?” 

Billy eyed the pile and laid on his charm. “My pleasure.” 

He was on his fourth potato when Lucas’s little sister came stomping in the kitchen holding a doll with a puffy pink hat. red hair, and striped stockings. “Mom, can I have a-” 

She stopped short and looked up at Billy. “Who are _you_?”

He held up the knife. “Jason Voorhees.” 

She sighed and put her hand on her hip. “Oookay. So I’m gonna try again. Who are you?”

He liked her immediately. “Billy Hargrove. I’m a friend of Steve Harrington.” He stuck out his hand, and she regarded it for a moment before placing her small hand in his and shaking firmly. 

“Erica Sinclair. If you’re friends with Steve, then why aren’t you out there with him playing D&D?”

“Not really my idea fun,” Billy replied as he continued chopping. 

“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes. She looked at his clothing and hair. “Nice earring. You look like Whitesnake. Like a rock singer. Pretty cool.”

He glanced out of the door toward Steve, who was yelling at Henderson, _use your Song of Rest, jesus, I mean, you’re a *bard*, Dustin._. “I’m starting to question that lately.” He looked down at her doll. “Who’s that?” 

“This is Strawberry Shortcake. She smells nice. See?” She held the doll up. 

Billy finished chopping the last bit of potato and handed the bowl to Mrs. Byers, who gave him a _thank you sweetie_ and a touch to the cheek. He turned back to Erica and leaned down to sniff the doll. It smelled like plastic and a faint, artificial strawberry smell. “She sure does.” 

“Want to see some of my other toys?” 

Mrs. Sinclair transferred the beef to a plate and began cooking a new batch. “Erica, leave this nice young man alone. He does _not_ want to look at your toys.”

“It would be more fun than _that_ ,” she nodded toward the D&D game. 

Billy looked down at her. “You know what? Yeah. Let’s go look at your stuff, kid.”

She led him down the hall to a little side room. 

Two hours later, Steve’s voice came from around the corner. “Hargrove are you down there? We need you in-” He stopped talking the moment he appeared in the doorway.

“What?” Erica asked and crinkled her eyebrows at Steve. “You act like you’ve never seen people play My Little Pony before.” Between her and Billy lay a plastic stable with the lid flopped open an array of plastic horses facing outward. 

Steve gawked at them. 

“What’s this one’s name again?” Billy asked as he held the pink-maned horse between his fingers.

“Sundance,” Erica said. 

“You’re-” Steve crossed his arms. “You’re playing _My Little Pony_. With Erica Sinclair.” 

Billy rolled his eyes. “Your _point_?” He looked over at Erica. “Some people aren’t cool enough to get it, you know?” 

“If that’s not the truth, Billy.” She gave him a high five.

Steve’s mouth dropped open.

Max popped in from behind Steve and looked at Billy and Erica. “Dinner’s ready. I thought you were gonna tell them, Steve.”

“You hungry?” Billy asked Erica. She nodded. “Then let’s go eat.” Billy put his horse back in its slot in the stable. She fastened the lid, and he let her leave first.

“ _Don’t_ forget what we talked about,” she said firmly to Billy before she left the room.

“What was that about?” Steve asked as Billy walked past. 

“That, amigo, is between her and me.”

_~*~_

Euchre. YOU-ker was how Steve told Billy how to say it. It was card game clearly invented by Satan. Apparently learning it was some sort of demented rite of passage in this area. There were eight thousand, seven hundred, and forty-three rules and no one seemed to agree on how to play it correctly.

Steve declared himself Billy’s partner and sat across from him at the card table. Max and Lucas sat adjacent to them -- their competition.

“This game is some Midwestern bullshit,” Billy said as he looked over his five cards while Mrs. Byers and Hopper argued loudly behind his shoulder. They were attempting to help him. Mrs. Byers thought he should lead with trump. Hopper thought that was the dumbest move possible. 

Steve leaned over the table. “Whatever you throw, I got your back, partner. Your lead.” 

“No table talk!” Lucas shouted. “That’s _cheating_ , Steve, and you _know_ it!” 

Mr. Sinclair stood behind Max looking at her cards. “Calm down son. We got this.” 

Steve gestured at Mr. Sinclair and turned to Lucas. “What was that about table talk?” 

Behind Billy, Mrs. Byers appeared to have won the argument by stating _use it or lose it, Hop_ , and Hopper backed down. 

“Your lead, Billy,” she said. 

He pointed to the king of hearts. She nodded, so he threw it down.

Max pulled a card from her hand, held it up for Mr. Sinclair to see, and looked up over her shoulder. 

“That’s the one,” he said with an approving nod.

She threw an ace of hearts on top of Billy’s card. 

Steve threw a jack of hearts on top of her card and touched his foot to Billy’s under the table. Well. Maybe this game wasn’t so bad after all.

Lucas threw out his jack of diamonds with an annoyed _ughhhh_. 

Steve gathered up the stack and moved the scorecard down one. They’d earned a point. “Nice job.” 

“Yeah yeah. Don’t let it go to your head. You’re lucky Steve had the right bower,” Hopper said to Mrs. Byers and when Billy turned around he had his hand on the small of her back. 

Billy wasn’t quite sure what was going on or how they’d taken the trick but Steve’s foot was still touching Billy’s and Billy moved his foot against Steve’s and Steve _winked_ at him. Max seemed happy to have Mr. Sinclair’s _you’re doing great Max_ with Lucas smiling at her across the table. Mrs. Byers pressed herself against Hopper’s side, and his arm slid up over her shoulder.

For an insane moment, he wished that they could all live here. All of them together in this cabin. Away from Neil, away from fucking _Hawkins_.

_~*~_

The clock read 11:18pm. Music blasted from the speakers and everyone gathered in the living room -- the adults were talking, most of the kids were dancing (and dancing, Billy noted, meant jumping up and down in a circle), and Jonathan and Nancy were stealing kisses in a corner as Dick Clark flickered unwatched across the TV screen.

Billy went to the kitchen to grab a beer.

Erica Sinclair had been allowed to stay up for the new year but was already in her Garfield nightgown. She approached him and crossed her arms. “Almost midnight.” 

“Yep. Isn’t it past your bedtime?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I’m almost _nine_ , you know.” 

He uncapped his beer and took a long drink. “Uh huh. Real old.” 

She sighed. “Anyways. I wanted to lend you this.” She held up an orange Care Bear-style stuffed lion that had a symbol on its belly -- a red heart with a crown. 

Billy took the stuffed animal from her hands. 

“Just for tonight. It’s Brave Heart Lion. He’ll help you be brave.” 

He looked at its cute round face and squeezed it, remembering their earlier conversation in the game room. They swore to each other top secret privacy. He knew what this message meant, and he was _terrified_. “Thanks, kid.” 

She started backing out of the kitchen. “Remember our promise, Billy. New year. I need to be brave and so do you.” 

“Yeah,” Billy said. He tucked the lion under his arm. “Brave.”

She walked away and Billy wondered how it came to be that the best advice he’d received in the last four years had come from an eight-year-old.

He put the lion down in the bedroom on the dresser. “Wish me luck,” he said. 

It regarded him with a little smile.

_~*~_

“Harrington,” Billy said, leaning over the back of the couch where Steve was sitting. Billy’s face was probably too close to the pale skin of Steve’s neck, but Steve didn’t seem to mind -- he even leaned a little closer, like he was ready to conspire. “Wanna come have a smoke with me? Outside?”

“Really? It’s almost midnight.” 

“I-” Billy took a deep breath Mustered it up and lowered his voice. “I need to tell you something. And I have some grade A weed. Bring in the New Year right.” 

Steve smiled. “Okay. Lemme grab my coat.” 

They found the fire pit that Hopper had made earlier next to the house and Steve threw a couple logs on it. The new wood crackled, heat radiating from it as Billy lit the joint, took a drag, and passed it to Steve. 

The music cut off and someone turned up the tv to full blast. “Only three minutes until 1985!” Dick Clark declared.

Steve inhaled deeply and passed the joint back. “So what did you want to tell me?”

Billy held it between his fingers. The cherry burned bright orange, same as the embers of the fire pit. “You’ve been really cool to me these last couple weeks, Harrington. You spent time with me. Drank with me. Let me sleep in your house. I don’t deserve any of that shit.”

“Billy-”

Billy sighed. “Let me finish. Fuck, I am _not_ good at this.” He was trying not to let irritation show in his words. Put the joint to his lips and smoked deeply, paused for a moment, and exhaled. “I’m not good at _people_.” 

Steve stepped closer. A thin wisp of snow floated down from above, blown by the wind, and some landed in Steve’s hair.

“Sometimes -- sometimes I feel really shitty about myself. I mean, _jesus_ , it was my fault we had to leave California. Got caught by some cop in an alley behind a bar and I was.” Billy couldn’t look in Steve’s eyes. Could barely push the words past the tightness in his throat. Shame wound up in his gut. “I was blowing some guy I met in the bar.” 

He took another drag as a tear slid down his cheek, and he passed the joint back to Steve. “Neil was fucking livid. My jeans -- the knees were still dirty from the alley when he picked me up from the station. He couldn’t stand the idea of us being in California after that. He wouldn’t let me wash those jeans -- made me wear them all dirty while we packed up the house. For days in a row. Like I was some dog that shit in the house and he was sticking my nose in it. I made him sick. I _make_ him sick. Still. He tells me _every goddamn day_.”

Steve slid his palm against Billy’s -- he laced their fingers together and the joint fell to the snow.

“I was fucking miserable. Like human garbage. I didn’t want Max to be happy. Or anyone. Or you.” _Be brave_. Billy reached up to touch Steve’s temple. Ran his fingers over Steve’s cheek. “I was _sick_ over what I did to you. Took it all out on your face. I was a raving fucking asshole, treated you like shit, and you’ve been so _good_ to me these last few weeks. I don’t deserve it, Steve. I don’t.” He tried to blink them away, but the tears still came.

“Jesus, Billy-” Steve’s eyes fell to Billy’s lips.

Shouting came from inside the house. “Ten! Nine!-”

“You can’t even see yourself. You don’t even _know_ , do you.” Steve tugged the collar of Billy’s coat, making him step closer. 

“Five! Four!” 

Billy’s hands found Steve’s face and he pressed his lips to Steve’s. Softly. 

“ONE!” Screams and shouts poured from the house as Steve kissed back, _really_ kissed Billy, full of pressure and passion with his fists clutching Billy’s coat and Billy fucking felt on _fire_. 

Billy’s hands made their way to Steve’s hair and he licked Steve’s lip and when Billy touched his tongue to Steve’s, Steve hummed and it nearly took Billy apart. He pulled back to kiss along Steve’s jaw and pressed _I’m sorry so fucking sorry_ into Steve’s skin as his breath formed little ghost-like tendrils in the air, like they’d been waiting so long to be said that they took physical shape. 

Billy returned to Steve’s lips, kissing him over and over -- the slide of Steve’s lips over his felt like Billy _meant something_ , Steve kissed him like he _was someone_. 

Steve pulled back and touched his forehead to Billy’s. They stood there and breathed for a moment. Clutching. Not wanting to let each other _go_. 

“You should stop saying that.” Steve started playing the longer hair at Billy’s neck. “Stop saying you don’t deserve it.” 

Billy swallowed. “I don’t.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Billy’s waist and pulled him tight. “When you found me under the stairs before break. That was pretty low that day.” 

“Yeah?” 

Steve shrugged. “My parents left me alone at Christmas to go on that cruise. Didn’t think twice about it. Didn’t ask if I wanted to go. And it’s like besides Nancy, anyone who talks to me at school isn’t really doing it because they _want_ to. They _need _. A ride. Money. Social status. And you didn’t _need_ anything from me. Just to smoke in silence. And I fucking appreciated that.”__

__Steve leaned in kissed Billy again. “You’ve been funny. Open. Honest. Good to the kids. And a good friend.” He kissed Billy’s cheek, his jaw, his chin, and back to his lips with each example. “So stop with _I don’t deserve it_ shit. You do.” _ _

__“If you say so, pretty boy. I’ll stop.”_ _

__Steve’s hand roamed down to Billy’s ass and squeezed. “I say so.”_ _

__That fucking _lit Billy up_. He went for Steve’s neck, kissing softly, and then he _bit_. _ _

_Billy_ , Steve whispered as both of his hands palmed Billy’s ass and Billy rolled his hips against Steve’s when the sound of the door slamming open from the deck above and Mrs. Byers’s drunken giggle sent them flying apart. 

__“Why did you want me to see the goddamn _fire pit_ , Hop?” _ _

__“Because _this_.” Hopper leaned down, down, to embrace her, pull her to her toes, and kiss her. _ _

__“Holy shit!” Steve laughed quietly, looking up at them. He bit his lower lip, pure joy on his face. Snow had gathered in Steve’s hair and weighed down a piece of it, one of the parts that usually swooped up in an adorable brown wave, and it flopped down on Steve’s forehead. He tried to push it back up into place while watching Hop lay it on Mrs. Byers._ _

__Billy felt a little high. A little delirious. And _a lot_ lot in love. _ _

__Mrs. Byers and Hopper were still kissing, so Billy and Steve snuck behind them and quietly pulled the door closed. Billy took off his jacket and began to toe off his boots when he looked up and to see Erica heading for her bedroom. She paused and glanced over Billy’s shoulder at Steve. A little smile formed on her face. Her eyes fell back down to Billy, and she gave him a nod and an “okay” sign with her fingers and continued on her way to bed._ _

__Somehow, winning Erica’s approval, an eight-year-old girl he’d known for only eleven hours, meant more to Billy than any accomplishment he’d ever presented to Neil in his entire life._ _

__

_~*~_

Billy did a round of wishing everyone Happy New Year, drank another beer, had pleasant conversation with Claudia Henderson of all people while topping off her glass of red wine, and finally said goodnight and went off to bed as the kids started to lay out their sleeping bags and pillows in the living room.

Steve entered the room eight minutes later --- not that Billy was counting.

“You too! Happy New Year! Night!” Steve said to someone in the living room and closed and locked the bedroom door. 

Billy had already flipped the stuffed lion face-down on the dresser. 

Billy walked Steve back against the wall. Steve’s hands found Billy’s waist. His fingers hooked through Billy’s front belt loops and he tugged Billy’s hips against his own. Billy placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders, leaned in and nuzzled Steve’s neck, listening to Steve’s little breaths, kissed all around it, then licked up the side of it.

“ _Billy_ ,” Steve whispered, sounded _wrecked_. 

Billy kissed Steve’s jaw. Rubbed his palm over the bulge in Steve’s jeans. “Can you be quiet, baby?” 

Steve’s throat worked as Billy thumbed open Steve’s jeans. Steve nodded quickly. 

Billy sank to his knees. 

“Jesus,” Steve said.

“Shh,” Billy replied as he tugged down Steve’s jeans and briefs to his thighs. And this was not exactly how he thought he’d be spending the first minutes of the new year -- with Steve Harrington’s cock in his mouth, Steve’s fingers tangled in Billy’s hair, Steve thrusting, thrusting, panting until he said _fuck, fuck, Billy,_ before spilling in Billy’s mouth. 

Or with Steve pressing Billy down to the floor, climbing over him, saying _I’ve never done this before_ with his lips against the head of Billy’s cock. Billy gave him soft words of encouragement, tried to hold his hips back, and he warned, “Steve, baby, I’m gonna come,” and Steve’s brown eyes looked up and him and Billy just couldn’t _handle_ it, that look in Steve’s eyes as he swallowed. It _shattered_ him.

They held each other on the floor, touching, kissing softly, whispering endearments until a chill settled around them and the decided to move up onto the bed. 

Steve wrapped around Billy’s back, stating _I want to be big spoon_. Billy put up a brief argument, but Steve fell asleep almost as soon as he flung his arm over Billy’s side, and Billy had to admit that this position felt _right_.

With Steve’s slow breaths fanning over Billy’s neck, Billy tried to figure out when the shift had happened. When it had all changed. Ultimately, he decided, it didn’t fucking _matter_. 

Because he knew he would need this. Maybe they wouldn’t get it immediately, not all the time, but he knew he’d need to be able to make Steve’s breath hitch like that again. He’d need to feel Steve’s fingers in his hair. He’d need to feel how Steve would wake up in the middle of the night and splay his fingers over Billy’s stomach, half-asleep and possessive. 

He’d need to wake up with Steve’s hair tickling his nose, like it did the next morning, and Steve’s sleepy “Happy new year, Billy.” 

He would need it, to whisper “Happy new year baby,” as he pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, winter sunlight pouring in the window, filtering through Steve’s hair. 

Steve showed him that it was okay to need. And that he could _have_ it. That Billy _deserved_ it. 

For Billy, 1985 did, and would always, mean _love_.

**Author's Note:**

> Brave Heart Lion wasn't actually out until 1985 - I thought I'd include it anyway.
> 
> I'm [tracy7307](http://tracy7307.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, and @tracy73077 on Twitter.


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